


something old, something new

by surexit



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Knotting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:19:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surexit/pseuds/surexit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They haven't tested this aspect of Ray's werewolf anatomy before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something old, something new

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Новое старое](https://archiveofourown.org/works/784494) by [SleepSpindles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepSpindles/pseuds/SleepSpindles)



> There is basically no excuse for this, I just wanted to try writing some knotting. So, Ray's a werewolf! A werewolf with a knot. :D?

“ _How_ long until this goes down?” Brad says, gasping. Ray, behind him, moves restlessly. The motion nudges the knot wedged just inside Brad’s ass, sends a shiver of something odd through Brad’s body – not exactly pleasure, more like an itch, an echo of pleasure. 

“It depends,” he says, voice blurred and hazy. “Sorry, Colbert, your ass is mine until I finish coming.”

“This is fucking stupid,” Brad says, staring ahead across the expanse of the bed to the open window and trying to ignore the stretched open feeling of his ass, the trickle of sweat down his crack. When in doubt, compartmentalise. His dick’s only half-hard. “What exactly am I supposed to be getting out of this?”

“A deep and secure conviction of my everlasting love for you. And also my werewolf babies,” Ray says, and noses against the back of Brad’s neck. Brad whips his head backwards, trying to at least cause a bruise, but Ray must see it coming, because the attempted head-butt doesn’t connect. “That’s not very nice,” Ray says, and swats Brad’s hip.

Brad doesn’t say anything, and Ray hitches his hips a little closer, grinds in deeper. The same strange itch floats through Brad, and he can feel the goose bumps breaking out across his shoulders. Ray sees them, of course, and there’s a satisfied chuckle from behind Brad. “Fine,” Brad says, before Ray can gloat. “It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever experienced. Setting the bar pretty low, Person.”

“Oh, this is sounding more and more like a challenge,” Ray says. He’s pressed so close that as he talks, Brad feels the slight rise and fall of his chest against his back, hot and sticky. 

Brad’s mouth twitches. “Maybe it is. Show me the point of this stupid werewolf trick of yours, then. And the point better _not_ be cock-eyed, slack-jawed werewolf babies, or I will beat you into the ground.”

“Well,” Ray says, low, and grinds again. He can barely move in or out, tied in too tightly, but what he can do, it feels like, is circle his hips, make the knot shift and the shaft of his cock brush against different nerve endings inside Brad. It makes Brad’s mouth drop open as he focuses on the sensation, trying to catalogue it. “It slows us down,” he says with a particularly wicked twist, jolting Brad into a making a low sound, “and I know that probably offends your sense of efficiency, Bradley, but sometimes it’s nice to take your time.” The hand on Brad’s hip is drifting, stroking across the jut of his hipbone and trailing fingers over his belly, playing with the hair. Ray tugs briefly at patches of Brad’s happy trail, just enough to hurt a little, and the sharpness of the focus there contrasts with the diffuse feeling in Brad’s ass, the way there’s too much new stuff happening for Brad to focus on so it’s all just combined into one low throb. Brad jerks and groans in response, and Ray licks his neck. His hand slides up to pinch Brad’s nipple, and Brad jerks again.

“Fine,” he says, voice rougher than he’d like it. “I am kind of starting to see the point.”

“I’m delighted,” Ray says. “Because I think it’ll probably take about half an hour before we can separate.” He buries his face in the back of Brad’s neck and bites at his nape, gently, muttering into the skin, “And then you’ll give birth nine months later.”

“Shut the fuck up, Ray,” Brad says, reaching back to dig his hand into Ray’s hair and shape his palm to the curve of Ray’s skull. “And fuck me as best you can with this unfortunate cock problem you have.”

Ray chuckles into Brad’s neck, and says, “Think you can come twice, ancient mariner?” He puts his hand on Brad’s cock and Brad goes tense, taut as a bowstring. He hadn’t even noticed himself getting hard again, too focused on the fucking _knot_ that is plugging his ass, but now he notices. He’s not even just hard, he’s _leaking_ , his cock drooling against the white sheets, and Ray smoothes a bit of precome onto his palm and starts to jerk Brad off, short sharp strokes that the little shit _knows_ will get Brad off really fucking quickly.

“ _Ancient mariner_?” Brad says, heaving in breath and trying to keep his voice steady. Every stroke of Ray’s hand is making his ass clench, and every time that happens his nerves leap shockily as his muscles encounter the knot, and it’s getting difficult to think. “What the fuck, Ray?”

“Ssssssh,” Ray says, laughter in his voice “Shut up and come.”

“Shut up yourself,” Brad says, but it’s ruined by the crack in his voice, and when he hears Ray giggle he clenches the hand still on Ray’s head into a fist, pulling sharply on his hair. It makes Ray moan, as he thought it would, and the hand on Brad’s cock falters. Oddly enough it’s that that makes Brad come, the reminder that he can still do that to Ray, that it’s not just him lying here, impaled and helpless. Even the orgasm feels different, off-kilter, like it drags something deep out of him, and every muscle relaxes after he’s done.

“I’m going to have to wipe this on the sheets,” Ray says, voice slightly thready and hand full of come. “I can’t exactly wash my hands. I know it’ll offend your OCD, but we can deal with it later.”

“Hmmmm,” Brad says, eyes half-open and the hand in Ray’s hair slipping limply out, so that he’s lying oddly twisted, one hand flung back over Ray’s body. He can still feel the knot and it’s like coming cleared out his brain so that now he can start to sort through the sensations, the way it presses on his rim and just inside it, the heat of the shaft buried deep in him, the wet feeling of the come that Ray’s already released, the scratch of Ray’s pubic hair against his ass cheeks. He lets his mind drift, contemplating it.

“Shit, Brad, did I break you?” Ray says, pushing Brad’s arm off himself and craning around to peer into Brad’s face. Brad reaches up clumsily and bumps his fingers against Ray’s ear, trying to communicate, ‘No, shut up now.’ Ray doesn’t seem to get the message. “Homes, what is this, you never do the post-coital thing. Are we actually going to _cuddle_?”

“Hmmmm,” Brad says. He’s not entirely averse to the idea. He feels open in more ways than just the obvious, and it’s not like they could be doing anything else with the time.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Ray informs him, and lets his head thump back onto the pillow behind Brad, winding his arm around Brad’s waist and squeezing gently.


End file.
